


Scales and Light, Flesh and Steel

by bzarcher



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cybernetics, Dragons, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Noodle Dragons, Podfic Welcome, Romance, SYMMENJI, body acceptance, canon neuroatypical character, hard light dragons, rarepair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 19:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8297590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher
Summary: Satya Vaswani was fascinated by the Dragons. She had to learn what they were, why the Shimada brothers were able to summon them, how they worked. She certainly did not expect to find something else entirely.





	

Satya had originally come to Genji Shimada because she wanted to know more about the dragons.

They weren’t hard light – hard light did not _work_ like that, and it certainly was not _summoned_ using tattoos and by shouting in Japanese, but no other explanation seemed to match the behavior she’d observed.

She’d considered approaching the elder Shimada brother, but something about the way they interacted made her feel uncomfortable with the idea. Hanzo was cordial enough, and occasionally he indulged her frustrated critiques of certain Overwatch agents’ dress, hygiene, and behaviors, often adding a few of his own pointed comments, while she happily listened to his own complaints – particularly about the anachronistic gunman who had somehow become his partner. Occasionally they enjoyed tea on evenings where her work kept her awake past all hours or the demons that drove the archer kept him from sleep, and simply let a portion of the night pass in silence, grateful for the company of another.

But for some reason she felt that the subject of the dragons would be a bit too much to broach. Perhaps Hanzo’s bonds to the traditions of his fallen clan, perhaps the fact that she would call him a colleague, but wasn’t entirely sure he was actually a _friend_.

(Of course, she often doubted any of the other members of Overwatch were truly her friends at times. Vishkar did not encourage relationships beyond professional camaraderie, and Satya had rarely felt at ease around any clients she’d worked with over her career as an Architech. Still, Hana had happily insisted that they were, in fact, friends, and Lena often dropped off care packages of biscuits, spices, or teas when her work as Overwatch’s main pilot sent her into the United Kingdom or other former colonial nations where some of their mutual favorites could be found, and Satya did the same in return when given the opportunity. But were they _friends_? Sometimes Satya wondered if she had the framework to actually understand that question, let alone answer it.)

So she had sought Genji Shimada out.

It had been surprisingly difficult. He often left the Watchpoint to attend meditation with his Master in some of the most inaccessible locations in the area, or executed missions calling for his unique skills of stealth and speed. Still, after Hana had mentioned he would be playing a game with her for a stream, Satya had asked if she might attend in person.

Hana had been delighted, and the game they’d been playing (referred to as a ‘Bullet Hell’, though Satya was fairly sure that wasn’t actually the title) had been oddly engrossing.

Each of them controlled a small spaceship that could switch between a protecting itself with a light or dark colored shield, and firing projectiles to match. As they played, Satya could see the patterns develop across the screen, watching as Hana and Genji both worked to manipulate their shields to absorb or redirect fire, adjusted weapons to cause additional damage, or to use the absorption from their shields to maneuver through otherwise impassible gaps in the enemy fire.

She’d become so absorbed in the patterns and dancing colors that she’d begun tapping the fingers of her organic hand gently against her knee, creating a rhythm that blended with the dance of ships, bullets, and explosions playing out in front of her. She hadn’t realized she’d been softly humming the song she’d begun creating within herself until Genji had tilted his head back slightly, the glowing green edge of his monoptic visor catching her eyes.

Suddenly realizing what she must have been doing, Satya straightened, eyes flicking down and away as she felt heat rising in her face. “Oh. My apologies…I did not mean to be a distraction.”

Hana seemed completely oblivious, which was probably for the best, while Genji tilted his head in a way that did not seem to suggest annoyance, though his mask made him even more difficult to read than most for her. “It wasn’t anything to apologize for,” he murmured quietly, “you have a lovely voice.”

His compliment had made her feel slightly unsteadly, and she wasn’t sure why. He was not the first to compliment her voice, though others were usually in the context of delivering presentations or proposals to potential Vishkar clients or her fellow employees. Perhaps something in the slightly modulated and processed tones of his speech?

She did her best to center herself, then nodded to him once she felt she could speak. “Thank you.”

Satya did her best to remain silent until they’d finished the game and Hana had done some questions and answers with the fans attending her stream, capped off by taking a series of ridiculously posed photos with herself and Genji for the virtual crowd.

Once the show had ended, she’d thanked Hana for letting her attend, then followed them both out when the Korean had declared it “mandatory pancakes time.”

Once in the hall, she considered reaching out and simply touching the cyborg to get his attention, then reconsidered as her eyes fell to the grip of the short sword that hung against his hip. She settled for clearing her voice softly, knowing that Hana was unlikely to catch it – particularly since she’d begun looking up a pancake recipe on her phone as she walked.

“I had wondered if I might speak to you later.”

Genji slowed so that he would fall into step with her, and with an upward tilt of his head to make eye contact, she realized he was actually slightly shorter than her – something about the way he carried himself usually made him seem larger. “If this is about earlier, Miss Vaswani, you don’t need to explain anything.”

Satya shook her head before he could carry that line of thought further. “I had actually come to Hana’s stream tonight because I was hoping for an opportunity to talk to you – what happened was not related to that at all.”

Despite the lack of features, she could gauge a bit of his reaction from the movements of his shoulders, and the slight angling of his head. If his organic face had been visible, she was fairly certain his eyebrows would have been raised.

“Oh? I hope that Hanzo hasn’t done something to offend –“

“No, no!” Satya actually had to laugh softly about that. “Your brother has not done anything to offend me. In fact, he is…quite proper, in his behavior.”

“Ah. That’s good. Hanzo…is doing his best here. But there are times I wonder if he struggles with…” Genji trailed off, then waved both hands in an arc that seemed to encompass the corridor. “This. It means a great deal to me that he followed me here, eventually. But I know it can’t easy for him.”

Satya nodded. “I do enjoy working with your brother as a colleague, and we…often find common ground when we have a chance to speak.”

“Good. _Arigato, Vaswani-san_. Hanzo has needed more friends in his life for a very long time. I’m glad he’s been able to find some here.”

There was that word again. Part of her wanted to grimace slightly – people kept _using_ it, so it must be true on some level, but she didn’t wish the gesture to be misinterpreted.

“So,” Genji continued, oblivious to her mild internal discomfort, “what did you wish to speak with me about?”

Satya’s eyes flicked ahead. Hana was far enough down the corridor (and absorbed enough into her phone) that she wasn’t likely to be overheard, and it wasn’t as if she was asking something _improper_.

(She hoped.)

“I have been very curious about your…companion? The dragon which appears when you draw your sword.”

Genji’s visor seemed to flicker for a moment, and she realized after a momentary silence that must have been his equivalent to a blink. “Ramen? What about him?”

“…your dragon is a noodle?”

* * *

That simple, somewhat perplexed question had led to a conversation that lasted most of the night, with Genji attempting to explain some of the esoteric concepts of his ‘spirit companion’, and not truly giving her an explanation about why the green beast (if it was actually a beast – Genji had seemed very cautious about explaining just how intelligent ‘Ramen’ was, telling her that the dragons tended to see things in a more abstract way than humans or omnics did) appeared, or how it existed in a seemingly incorporeal form.

When he had not been answering her questions, Genji had asked a few of his own – almost making it into a game. She had expected him to ask about Vishkar, or her hard light technologies. Instead, he’d asked if she’d enjoyed watching them play the game. (She had, she assured him.) If she enjoyed her work since joining Overwatch (It was certainly interesting – each day presented new challenges.) What sort of things she enjoyed to do to relax. (She had explained that since she used dance as part of her light sculpting, she enjoyed both performing by herself and observing different styles. She often enjoyed music when preparing to sleep. She often read for pleasure.)

By the end of the evening, when he’d gently suggested that she might want to rest after she caught herself yawning through an answer about what tea she drank, Satya still felt that she understood very little about the dragons – but she was fairly certain that Genji now understood quite a bit about _her_.

For reasons which she could not quite define, that pleased Satya a great deal.

* * *

They established a pattern from there – Satya visiting Genji and asking questions, trying to understand what she was seeing on the occasions that his dragon manifested, Genji asking gentle questions about her and her background. It was only after almost a month that Satya realized she was looking forward to seeing him to just talk more and more often, and even though she was still fascinated by the dragons, trying to discern their nature became less and less of a driving force behind their relationship.

It took her some time to realize that 'relationship' was exactly the word to use for the quiet, comfortable feeling she felt when she was in his presence. How she occasionally would find herself thinking about the way he laughed or moved, how ‘ _Satya-chan’_ had sounded on the day she’d finally told him to please use her name instead of constantly calling her ‘Miss Vaswani’ while they were alone. (Though the way he used ‘Miss Vaswani’ while they were in public also had a certain pleasing sound to it).

Satya had been in the workshop, insisting on helping Torbjörn organize the sprawling piles of scrap he used for fabrication. As she carefully sorted some of the larger pieces by size and composition, she had begun to hum softly to herself again. The Swedish engineer had been passing behind her with a storage container of smaller parts that had already been sorted, clearing his throat slightly before he spoke.

“It’s nice to see you so happy, lass. Something planned for after we’re done?”

Satya answered without thinking, though she did blush slightly in response to the question: “Nothing specific after my assigned cleaning duty in the kitchen this evening, but I believe I will be spending some time with Genji afterwards.”

Torbjörn’s bushy eyebrows had risen, but he refrained any commentary he had on that subject, taking the bin over to the shelving unit that Satya had woven from hard light earlier in the afternoon.

When she realized the implications of what she had said, she nearly dropped an engine manifold onto her foot.

They had a relationship, well beyond simple colleagues – in fact, it was arguable that she was becoming quite attached to Genji Shimada.

It was a sobering thought. Vishkar occasionally encouraged certain partnerships with a client or contact, particularly when they yielded results that enriched the company, but she had never seen herself in such a scenario, and Sanjay and her other superiors had never asked.

_But this is not Vishkar._

She had walked to the drafting table and workbench she had established for her use almost immediately after her arrival. Raising her synthetic hand, she concentrated on the creation array embedded in the palm, weaving together a small pyramid of hard light that she manipulated and spun into different configurations as her mind navigated her sudden realization.

Genji had been kind to her from the beginning, even when many of the other Overwatch members had been aloof. Even though she had heard Hanzo grouse on several occasions about his brother’s lack of proper behavior, he never acted that way towards her. As she had begun her investigations, he seemed to enjoy her company as well, always finding new questions to ask about her life and wants without touching on the still painful subject of childhood, or the newer wounds of her decision to cut her ties with the company that had provided her with education, goals, and direction after being confronted with their increasingly unsavory acts. He had a quick and often quite silly sense of humor, and she was surprised by how easily he could make her laugh.

Sometimes Genji shared stories of some of the happier times from his own childhood – particularly ones that had involved his quest to discover and awaken Ramen – and more than a few ended in ridiculous misadventures. At other times, he was respectful and understanding if she asked him to stop or change subjects in his questioning, and on several occasions they would simply sit in one of the common rooms or a comfortable spot outside, enjoying the companionship they had slowly developed.

Yes, she had most certainly grown attached to Genji Shimada. But to that extent?

_He has undergone dramatic reconstruction with his cybernetics._

_But is it so different from what was done to me?_

_I have never even seen his true face._

_You have never asked._

That line of thought began to lead her to wondering just how much of his body was still organic, and how much might be accessible beneath the integrated armor he wore. If she were to speculate on the fittings and hardpoints of some of the plating on his torso and hips…well.

Satya found herself quite uncomfortable for an entirely different reason as that line of thought reached a conclusion. She quietly excused herself as she stood from the desk, Torbjörn simply waving absently as she passed him on her way to the door.

With a mix of delight and dread, she realized that the object of her speculation was passing through the corridor as she left the shop.

“Good afternoon, Miss Vaswani.” His body language shifted almost instantly when he’d seen her. She’d slowly become more adept at reading his reactions, and the tone of his voice and set of his hips and shoulders suggested he was quite happy to have run into her.

“Genji. I…may I speak to you in my room, please? In private?”

His visor pulsed brightly for a moment before flickering, surprise clear in how his upper body shifted back slightly, but he nodded to her, his voice still light. “Of course. I have some time now, if you like.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Her stomach tightened as she lead him back into the female dormitories, then to the room she had been given, thankful that she didn’t have to share the quarters with a roommate. She kept it deliberately simple and carefully arranged. Most of the fittings had come with the space, but there were a few small touches she’d crafted from hard light for herself, including a more comfortable desk chair and a few small sensory objects on her dresser.

On the other hand, as she settled on her bed and Genji sat in the chair at her invitation, she was suddenly very aware of her earlier line of thought, and that this was a bedroom. Perhaps NOT the best decision she could have made.

Satya gave herself a moment to drag her mind back out of the gutter, but Genji simply sat patiently. When it seemed she was having trouble sharing what was on her mind, he attempted to give her a lifeline.

“I’ve never seen your room before, Satya-chan. It’s very pleasant.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that. I prefer a restful sleeping environment.”

Genji nodded, then, to her surprise, actually fidgeted slightly, his fingers tapping lightly against the arm of the chair, the toes of his foot twitching.

“You had something you wished to ask me? Is this about Ramen or my brother’s dragons?”

“No,” she admitted, rubbing the ball of her thumb and forefinger together, “not directly. I had a…realization, earlier, and I wished…” Her mouth moved for a moment, but no sound came out as she looked for a way to translate what she had realized internally into words. “Genji, are we…in a relationship?”

Genji went still. So still, in fact, that she began to fear that she’d misinterpreted, that she’d failed to understand another person’s behaviors and physical cues _again_ and offended him, her chest tightening, then releasing with an explosive intensity as he finally spoke, his voice softening. “If you wish to be…I would like that very much.”

Satya sagged with relief, a quiet laugh escaping her. “Then…yes. I would like that as well.”

The tilt of Genji’s head made it clear he was just as relieved and happy as well as he laughed with her. “I’d been trying to figure out if there was a way to ask you. Thank you for taking the matter out of my hands.”

Standing, Satya crossed the floor to him, and gently placed a kiss against the crown of his helmeted forehead. “It was my pleasure.”

* * *

The first time that Ramen manifested himself for her was a few days after that conversation. They’d decided to be discreet about their new status. Genji had understood when she explained her difficulties in admitting her affection thanks to her upbringing at Vishkar, and they both agreed it would be good to have a little time to understand what was forming between them before opening it up to more scrutiny, regardless.

The dragon had other ideas about that.

She’d been asleep when she had felt a warm and surprisingly soft presence against her bare shoulder, almost as if a cat had joined her on the bed.

No one at the watchpoint had a cat.

Her eyes had opened, and to her surprise the small green dragon was nestling in against her, tip of his tail wrapping around her wrist lightly, head nuzzling gently against her cheek.

Her surprised murmur of ‘Hello?’ seemed rather inadequate to the moment, but the Dragon had made a pleased sort of rumbling sound and flopped against the crook of her neck.

They remained entwined for almost an hour, Satya too stunned to think of moving or calling for Genji’s help. Instead, she marveled at the intricate pattern of scales running down the body, examined the translucent fins that trailed down his back, and watched as the dragon’s body rose and fell against her with respiration. (If Ramen was a spirit creature, as Genji had told her, why did he need to breathe? Another question for another time.)

Genji arrived a few minutes past the hour, carefully opening her window from the outside and then nimbly sliding himself through.

Satya was impressed by his grace – particularly when she considered that the female dormitory was two stories up on a nearly featureless face of the building. How had he even found enough purchase to look inside?

“There you are! I’d wondered where you had gotten off to.” Despite the jovial words, there was a slight undercurrent of relief in Genji’s voice as he knelt next to the bed, a small puff of steam releasing from the vents at his shoulders and back the only sign of his exertion.

“Does he do this often?” Genji had never said this was even possible when they’d talked. She’d assumed the dragon was essentially bound to his master’s body.

Genji’s shoulders lifted with a huff of laughter. “He’s always been curious. When I was a boy, not long after we bonded, I found him trapped inside a laundry basket one morning.”

Satya smiled at the mental image, giving a pleased ‘hm!’ when the dragon gently raised himself from where he had been resting against her and lightly pressed the side of his face to Genji’s mask, making the cyborg laugh before gently scratching behind the fins at the base of Ramen’s neck.

“I think,” Genji admitted quietly, “that he approves.”

Satya felt a blush rise on her cheeks as she murmured “I did have that impression, yes.”

She was a bit confused when the dragon continued to press his forehead into the mask with increasingly demanding little thumps, until Genji finally rocked back a little with a chuckle. “All right, all right! _Sā, shūryō shimasu!”_

He began to reach for the back of his neck, then stopped suddenly, his eyes (it was strange how quickly she thought of his visor’s optic as his eyes) meeting hers. “I…he wants to be able to touch my face. Ramen doesn’t really like the mask. Is…is that…?”

Satya reached out over the dragon’s body to gently stroke the mask with one of her polymer fingertips. “Of course it is.” Levering herself up slightly, she gently took his free hand, her warm fingers gently tracing the interlocking plates and planes that made up his palm. “It is you.”

Genji’s shoulders heaved with a deep breath, and he pressed his fingertips into a set of depressions hidden beneath the black silk that covered the back of his head.

There was a soft click, and a hiss of releasing gas as the visor darkened and the faceplate dropped away from the crown. His hand came around to the chin of the mask, then gently drew it down and away. Satya’s breath caught as he set the faceplate on the bedsheet. His eyes were a tawny shade that was similar to his brother’s, but something in the sadness and strength she saw there was captivating. She found herself lost in his eyes for a long moment before she truly saw the rest of his face, his skin marked with long, almost feathery scars that traced the lines of his cheekbones and nose.

Ramen issued a trilling murmur, then nuzzled against the exposed skin. A moment later, Genji gently pressed against the edge of the armored gorget that protected his throat and concealed his mouth, then slowly pulled it away, revealing flexible composites and grey plates beneath, the cybernetics blending into the bones of his lower jaw.

“So,” he breathed softly, and Satya curled her fingers against his, “this…is me.”

Satya sat up, not caring about the fact that her nightdress had slipped down her shoulder or that her breast was exposed as she shifted from her sheets. She gently released his hand, then carefully moved Ramen from where the dragon had begun gently caressing his master’s cheeks, setting him on top of her pillow as the dragon issued a somewhat offended squawk.

“Yes,” Satya answered, her voice quiet but sure, “it is.” Then she leaned in, her hands reaching to pull his face up to hers, brushing her lips to his. “It is you.” Her second kiss was firmer, and he responded, his mouth pressing to hers for a long moment.

“Sorry,” he whispered breathlessly as they finally disengaged, “I’m a bit out of practice.”

“Then,” Satya murmured, “We should provide ample opportunities for you to refresh your skills.” She pressed against him again, and silenced any further objections for that morning.

* * *

Two weeks after she kissed Genji for the first time, Satya arrived in the medbay, looking for Mercy.

Satya had a sense that Angela Ziegler was closer to the ‘colleague’ category than ‘friend’, but it was not due to any enmity between them. Mercy simply was so relentlessly focused on her work that it was nearly impossible to find her anywhere but her lab, save for the rare occasions where Fareeha bodily removed her to eat or sleep. She rarely spoke to her on a personal rather than professional level, so it was difficult to build more of a relationship beyond that.

(She occasionally wondered if Angela was also considered neuroatypical, with her tendency to hyper-focus, seemingly unflappable aspect, often neglectful habits, and exceptional intelligence, but it was a subject Satya would not broach unless invited.)

After she’d entered, she found the doctor leaning over a scanning microscope, obviously engrossed in some of her nanotechnology research. Rather than interrupt, Satya simply created a chair for herself, fingers lightly stroking the chemical resistant surface of the countertop next to her. When Angela finished whatever observations she’d been working on, she stretched, popping her back before turning around, blinking in surprise when she realized she wasn’t alone.

“Good afternoon, Satya. I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in!”

“It is no problem, Doctor.” Satya smiled as she stood, dismissing the stool back into the aether. “I wondered if I might be able to consult with you on a personal matter.”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Angela walked to her desk, then tapped a code into her workstation. “That will lock the door and put on the privacy light, and Athena will not record any footage in the medical bay until I lift the restriction.”

Walking back to the other woman, Angela pulled a small stylus and tablet from her lab coat, face filled with gentle concern. “Is it a problem with your prosthetics? Are you experiencing any adverse effects from missions or our other operations? I’m a surgeon by specialty, not a neurologist, but I may be able to suggest a few things…”

Satya shook her head, raising her organic hand in a polite gesture. “I am sorry to give you the wrong impression, no, it is nothing like that. My arm is operating properly and I have not had any issues with feeling overwhelmed in the field – the aural filters in my headgear are working perfectly.”

“Oh.” Angela raised an eyebrow, clearly wondering what Satya had come to her for. “What may I help you with, then?”

“I wish to know the feasibility of engaging in sexual intercourse with Genji Shimada, and you are the subject matter expert on his capabilities and limitations.”

Angela’s tablet hit the floor with a sharp clack as the surgeon’s jaw dropped in surprise.

Perhaps she was not _totally_ unflappable after all.

* * *

Perhaps because of their new relationship, or perhaps simply because Genji felt more and more at ease around the various members of Overwatch as time went on, Ramen began to appear to other members of the organization more frequently, and Hanzo’s pair (Udon and Soba, Satya learned when they had been introduced) made occasional, but less regular visits as well.

They still did not discuss their relationship publically, though she was reasonably certain Hanzo knew (and likely McCree by extension.) Outside of one evening at dinner where Angela absolutely refused to make eye contact with either of them following Satya’s exhaustively detailed inquiry, however, no one had acted like anything was different.

For her part, it was not different exactly, but she was very happy with the turn her life had taken. She had found something totally unexpected, and very valued, but did not allow it to interfere with her work when called upon. She enjoyed waking up with her lover at times, and they had both found that occasionally privacy was required, and how to request it in a healthy way.

Genji, on the other hand, mostly behaved as before, but did tend to be a little more likely to indulge in his quirky sense of humor in public as well as in private, playing a few gentle pranks on his teammates and occasionally indulging in truly bizarre puns and harmless stunts.

For example, today, where he sat on the floor of one of the martial arts practice spaces, legs folded into a position he’d explained to her was called _seiza_ , hands on knees, leaning intently forward as he chanted softly in Japanese, Ramen sitting on the polished wood floor in front of him.

To the uninitiated, it might have been some kind of prayer or bonding ceremony, some strange ritual to tie Master and Dragon tighter together before going into battle.

But Hana, who was standing next to Satya in the _dojo_ door, spoke quite fluent Japanese, while Satya had slowly begun to master more of his language as well.

Which meant that they were both able to understand that Genji was quietly murmuring “Noodle eater, noodle eater, noodle eater, noodle eater” over and over as Ramen enthusiastically devoured a freshly made portion of his namesake, the warm noodles sitting on an immaculate white and black plate.

Hana shook her head, recording the…event…on her phone. “Your boyfriend is _so_ weird.”

Not so long ago, Satya would have made a denial, blushed, or otherwise evaded that remark. Today, however, she simply offered a fondly exasperated smile. 

“Yes, he is.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I found [this post](http://textsfromwatchpointgibraltar.tumblr.com/post/151738006943) on Tumblr and it inspired this thing. It was going to be goofy and still kinda ended up with a serious / sweet thing because that's how I roll I guess. :) Hope people like it!
> 
> (Sā, shūryō shimasu! - Come on, quit!)


End file.
